#and what's making this work (to the extent that it's working) lies in turning around and saying “no - those are not norms that we'll accept

[eregyrn-falls]

[ID: A series of tweets from "Jessica Ellis" @baddestmamajama on Twitter, replying to a tweet by Vivek Ramaswamy (@VivekGRamaswamy), in which he says, "This whole 'they're weird' argument from the Democrats is dumb and juvenile. This is a presidential election, not a high school prom queen contest. It's also a tad ironic coming from the party that preaches "diversity and inclusion". Win on policy if you.. (tweet cuts off).

Ellis replies: "No, it's not. It is important to point out that the tenor of conversation from Republicans has changed over the last 15 years. We're not just disagreeing about taxes and small business. They want to know what my genitals look like and when my last period was. It's fucking weird."

"Part of the reason the Democrafts' messaging has been garbage for the last decade is that establishment Dems kept insisting that these are people we could reach across the aisle to, that it's all just minor differences of opinion. It's demonstrably untrue and has been a while.

Acknowledging that their fascist oppressive party identity is not a norm of democracy is an important forward step. We would like them to be opponents, but they aren't -- they're something much more invasive and dangerous and I'm delighted to see Walz lead the charge on saying so.

Also let's be real. They have been calling us Lesbian Poetry Fairy Soy latte-drinking arugula-eating polyamorous deviants since the beginning of time. One week of calling them weird for undermining privacy and democracy and suddenly it's so mean and juvenile? I see." End ID.]

[watchmegetobsessed]

UNMATCHED

A/N: it's been like 6 months since i last posted something and honestly, i haven't even written anything, things are very shitty these days but i felt the motivation to write this quickly after watching 'tell me lies' and 'rivals' these past weeks so here we go! if student-prof type of fics are not your thing then don't read it

WORD COUNT: 2.6k

WARNING: age gap, student-professor relationship

SUMMARY: Harry is very strict about staying away from students as a young and handsome professor, but there is one person he can't get out of his head and a Christmas party brings an unexpected turn.

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Harry hates these type of parties, mostly because he can’t imagine inviting dozens of students into his home, his private space, have the roam around and spend an entire evening with them, talking and pretending like they aren’t just trying to get a better grade at the end of the semester with their too friendly behavior. Or, in his case, some girls try to push the boundaries and flirt with him, hoping to hook up with him. 

He is not stupid. He has heard students whisper about him several times, he notices the heart eyes when he is talking in class and he has gotten several phone numbers on papers since he started his PHD studies and started teaching last year. His friends teased him about being the heartthrob of the faculty, but he didn’t think it would actually happen and to this extent. To avoid any possible scandals, not that he planned to make any, he has put on quite a rigid mask towards the students to scare them off from even trying, though that hasn’t stopped some of them from wanting to shoot their shot. 

He wouldn’t have come to this party, he would rather be home and continue his research that’s still not even close to being done, but Professor Bradford, or Stella as she requests Harry to call her, is the only person he gets along with in the faculty. She is 18 years older than Harry, but still younger than the rest of the old men who have been teaching here since probably before the declaration of independence was signed. Those men are the reason younger people don’t like classic literature anymore, with their outdated ways of teaching and unwillingness to bring something modern into their lectures they are scaring the new generations away. But not Stella. She is one of the reasons Harry went into his PHD and now he gets to work with her. He couldn’t just reject her invitation for her annual Christmas Party she holds for her students and some colleagues. 

Now he is standing by the wall, drinking mulled wine and just gritting his teeth, trying to calculate how early is too early to leave. A couple of girls have already tried to chat him up, they like to circle him, leave him almost no room to escape and then make him talk about school stuff, but then they slyly bring up personal things, hoping to break his usual character, but he sees through them always. 

Harry’s best friend, Niall always teases him that he should just give in and have fun with one of them. His morals are a lot looser than Harry’s, that’s for sure. 

Just as he is about to look for the bathroom, not to use it but to hide for a bit, another group of girls spots him and he can already feel his skin crawling as they approach him from down the hallway. He is quick to assess the situation, but he realizes he has no chance of fleeing before they reach him. 

“Profesor! So good to see you here!” 

And here we go. 

It goes the same, they are extremely nice and inquiring about his plans for the next semester and then suddenly they are talking about summer and Harry knows they are moments away from asking what he’ll be doing once the school year is over. One of the girls is talking about going to Italy on a yacht and the others chime in with their own ridiculously over the top plans while Harry is avoiding to even look at them, his eyes roam around the other guests. 

That’s when he sees her. 

Just down the hall he can peek into the kitchen and there she is, with a boy Harry assumes to be her boyfriend. He’s seen them around campus the past few weeks, he even waited for her after Harry’s class and saw them walk away together as he fought the way his stomach churned every time. 

Since the moment she walked into his class at the beginning of the semester Harry has been feeling like he is losing his mind. Whether it be the way she laughs with her friends before class or focuses with undivided attention as Harry explains something by the board, or says hello every time she passes him in the cafeteria, Harry can’t stop thinking about her for days after even though he knows such feelings should be banned from his mind when it comes to a student. Every time he catches himself thinking about her he wants to throw himself out the window, but he still can’t fight it. There’s something in her that draws him in and swallows him whole and it’s not just the looks. Unlike a lot of students who take his classes for easy credits or to drool after him, she is there to learn as much as she can and she’s had the most brilliant thoughts on certain subjects Harry has ever encountered, making him almost jealous he wasn’t the one to think about them. 

She is… unmatched. And forbidden, but impossible to ignore. She’s been his vice for months.

From where he stands it appears she is having a fight with said boyfriend, her always cheerful expression is now rather upset and confused while the boy seems to be over the conversation, almost irritated by her, dismissed. Harry tries to appear not too obvious about watching them, but he is also way too fixated on her to ignore what’s happening just down the hallway. 

He glances away just for a few seconds, but the next time he looks back he sees the boy stomping away, irritated, while she is left there, pulling on her coat before disappearing through the backdoor, swallowed by the darkness of the unlit back terrace. 

And before Harry could stop himself, he is already moving.

“Excuse me girl,” he mumbles disorientedly as he slips out of the small circle. 

He places his glass to a nearby table and then grabs his own coat from the wardrobe in the hallway before making his way outside. After her. 

The moment he steps out into the cold a short sense of realization washes over him that he definitely shouldn’t be here, that he is crossing a line, but then another voice in his head tunes it out, convincing him that he is just making sure she is okay and there’s nothing wrong with that. 

Stopping by the door his gaze rakes through the terrace, but he doesn’t see her, until she spots her slouched form sitting on the bottom of the stairs leading out to the lawn. He hears her sniffling, but she hasn’t acknowledged his presence yet, if she noticed it at all. There’s a couple of moments of hesitation on his end, he can hear the rational side of him screaming somewhere in the back of his mind, telling him to turn around and just walk back inside, yet he still finds himself moving towards him and then that voice is silenced. 

“Everything alright?” Harry asks from the top of the stairs, but he startles her so much that she jumps to her feet and backs away a few feet. That’s when he sees her tearful eyes and red nose. 

“S-Sorry, I don’t–”

“Hey, it’s all good. You didn’t do anything wrong. Just checking in.”

She squints her eyes at him and that’s when he realizes she must not even see his face since the light is coming right behind him. So he walks down the stairs and then finally his face is lit and realization settles in her eyes. 

“Oh, Professor Styles. Hi.”

“Hello Y/N. Are you okay?” he asks again, to which she just chuckles bitterly. 

He can’t miss that even with tears running down her cheeks and her eyelashes stuck together, she looks so fucking beautiful it baffles him. He has to fight the urge to reach out and touch her tear-soaked cheeks. 

“Um, yeah, everything is… perfect,” she scoffs, reaching into her pockets, probably looking for tissues, but finding none so Harry grabs one from his inner pocket, handing it over to her, her fingers brushing against his for the shortest second as she takes it and then it’s over, but his skin keeps tingling. 

“Thanks,” she mumbles before drying her face as much as she can. “I’m good. Just…” She looks at him and changes her mind. “Ah, wouldn’t want to bore you with my nonsense personal drama.”

“Drama is never boring, have you learned nothing in my class?” he jokes and it actually makes her laugh. 

“This drama is not worthy of being taught in class though.”

“I bet some of the big names thought the same thing upon writing what we read in class these days.”

“So you’re saying I should write about how my boyfriend is fed up with me because I told him something he did hurt me?”

“That sounds like something I bet a lot of people would want to read about,” he smiles and when she mirrors it, he can feel his chest expanding. Somewhere way too deep in his mind an alarm goes off, but it quickly becomes one with the void and all he can think about is her. “Actually I can think of a few great pieces that are about similar topics.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, believe it or not, you’re not the first one to experience this.”

The way she looks at him is setting him on fire. The mixture of sadness, tiredness and gratitude towards his attempt to cheer her up is still making her glow in a way Harry has never seen before on any woman. 

“Do you mind analyzing one for me right now?”

“I’d be happy to.”

The party is completely tuned out for the two of them. First they actually talk about a novel, but soon it turns into sharing their favorite books and authors, their guilty pleasure reads,  recommendations for each other and even more personal bits Harry would never share with a student, but Y/N is the exception. 

They have no idea how much time passes as they stand outside and Harry ignores how the cold starts to sting his fingertips even in his pockets, because he knows that if they go inside this bubble will pop and he is too selfish to let that happen just yet. 

When there’s a short silence Harry notices that she is probably slipping back into what happened earlier and when she looks at him again he already knows she is about to share.

“I gave him a chance and explicitly told him not to fuck me over, because I can’t deal with that again. But all he has been doing is manipulating to believe that I’m always in the wrong.”

“It’s impossible for you to always be in the wrong.”

“I know. Well, part of me knows, but then I always go back to thinking that he is right, I must have messed up something.”

“That just proves that you have self-criticism, that you don’t just think everything you do is perfect.”

She sighs and looks away, her gaze distant as she battles herself inside her head, a feeling Harry knows very well, unfortunately. It doesn’t sit right with him that she is visibly struggling because of an immature guy’s untreated problems. She deserves so much more, but how can he tell that without crossing a line?

“Give it some time and you’ll see it clearer. Use your critical thinking on his actions as well, not just yours and don’t settle for less than your worth.”

“You think I did that?” she asks, eyes jumping back to meet his gaze. “You think I settled for less than my worth?”

There’s more behind her eyes than the words she said out loud and he is torn, because he can feel himself being pulled in more than ever, like she just opened the door the slightest and he has the chance to slip in. It’s the first time he senses something on her part and after all the yearning he is eager to take the chance. 

“I think you deserve a lot more, Y/N. You’re brilliant, bright and give so much to others, you should get the same amount if not more back. If someone can’t see that, then they don’t deserve you.”

For a second he wishes he didn’t say a thing, he regrets crossing the line and he fears her reaction, but then… 

Then he forgets everything. Because she is kissing him. 

It happens fast, one moment she is staring up at him with doe eyes, the next her lips are crashing against his, her hands grabbing onto the lapels of his coat. He barely recovers from the shock when she is already pulling away.

“I-I’m so sorry, I d-didn’t mean to, I just—Oh my Go–”

Her stammering is quickly cut short when he kisses her, his hands holding her jaw to angle her face perfectly and while her kiss was closed, rushed and panicked, this one is different. He is quick to beg for her to open her lips so he can explore as much of her as humanly possible, he is letting all the passions loose that he’s been locking up these past months and when she returns it just as eagerly it just pushes him even further. 

They inch back to the wall of the house and when he pins her against it a moan slips past her swollen lips, completely maddening him. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he breathes against her lips, kissing her jawline, savoring the sweet taste of her skin that’s supposed to be cold, but it’s actually burning. For him. 

He keeps one hand on the side of her neck, the other one digs into her hip through her coat and she keeps pushing against him, while her hands wander under his coat, they are on his waist, back and when they move to his lower stomach, brushing against his belt, something snaps inside him. 

But before he could completely lose his mind the backdoor opens and he quickly sobers up, pulling her farther away from the corner so they can’t be seen. 

“...and that was actually crazy,” a girl speaks up, oblivious to how Harry has Y/N pinned against the wall just a few feet away. They are both breathing heavily, but she has her face buried in his shoulder while he covers his mouth with a hand, adrenaline racing through his veins. 

“Ah shit, I’m out of cigarettes,” another girl says.

“Mm let’s get out of here then. I think Max said they are having a little party as well.”

“Okay.”

Then the door opens again and the voices disappear, but reality hits Harry hard in the head.

He slowly pulls back, enough to look at her face and when he sees her swollen lips and slightly smeared mascara he almost combusts. 

Because he wants nothing more than to take her, right here and then everywhere else in the world, but he also realizes what he just did and this time his rational side wins. 

“Fuck,” he gasps as he jumps back, cupping a hand over his mouth.

“I wanted it–”

“Y/N, stop!” he cuts her off. “Fuck, this was a mistake.”

“But I wanted it! You didn’t–”

“I said stop!” he barks and she shuts her mouth right away. “This shouldn’t have happened.”

And before she could protest again or worse, kiss him again, he is already storming back inside, across the house towards the front door.

“Harry! I haven’t seen you all night!” Stella catches him, but he just wants to get as far away from this house and from Y/N as possible.

“I’m sorry, I need to go. I’ll talk to you later,” is all he manages to say before he is already out the door.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[just-trying-to-fangirl-in-peace]

Distraction (Annatar/Sauron x fem!Elf!reader)

-> in which Annatar blinds you to the invasion of Eregion by giving you a taste of what you desire

Warnings: reader is manhandled and kissed on the lips and neck while under heavy mind control, having false feelings put into her head, basically no romance in sight, just Sauron being his dark creepy self

Sighing deeply, you strike out yet another flawed design for one of the Nine Rings of Men. It’s too similar to one Lord Celebrimbor has already rejected, but your mind seems to have been drained of all original thought after days on end of tireless labour.

At the very least, you have retired to your own study, away from Lord Celebrimbor’s sour mood. He has grown strange of late, distant at best and ill-tempered at worst. You doubt you would have been able to go on toiling as you do if it weren’t for the Lord of Gifts to lift your spirits with his words of encouragement, kind gaze and—on occasion—his soothing touch. He has a way of cradling your hand in his with such gentleness and warmth that it feels like a balm on your calloused skin, making any amount of strenuous work well worth the sacrifice.

You cannot deny, however much you would like to, that you have begun to harbor some measure of infatuation towards him. You try to put it out of your mind most of the time, but you must admit how much it motivates you in your work—the desire to fulfil his desire, as well as the fear that you might disappoint him.

Now, unfortunately, you feel the latter is a more likely possibility. You hate how utterly uninspired you feel, even though it’s to be expected in your state of exhaustion. You groan, leaning on the desk as you rest your head in your hands when a sound distracts you from your own frustration.

It’s coming from outside, you realize, from within the city. A distant clamour, muffled voices, and a distinct, harsh sound that has you standing from your seat, turning towards the door and—

—and finding yourself nose to nose with Annatar.

“My Lord!” you exclaim, hand flying to your suddenly rampant heart as you stumble backwards, bumping into your worktable. “Forgive me, I—I had not heard you come in.”

“Did you not?” he asks, quite puzzled. “I called your name. I was beginning to fear I had somehow offended you when we last spoke, since you seemed so intent on ignoring me.”

“Oh, no, of course not! I did not mean to—” You shake your head, stumbling on your words. Your cheeks feel as hot as the forge itself. How lost must you have been in your own thoughts that you hadn’t noticed his presence? “I was quite absorbed in the work, I think,” you admit apologetically. You mean to ask him what he needed of you, but then the same noise from before catches your ear, and you remember why you stood in the first place. “Is that the siege alarm?”

Annatar regards you with a slight furrow in his brow.

“You are tired,” he says softly. “Your senses deceive you.”

That may be true, to an extent. You had failed to hear him earlier, after all. But unless your senses have taken full leave of you, you are certain what you’re hearing is true.

“No, I can hear it,” you insist. “Can’t you?”

You don’t wait for his answer as you walk past him—or at least, you mean to. With a step to the side, he is in your way, causing you to halt in your tracks and blink up at him in surprise instead.

“All is well in the city. Your concern lies here.”

He’s smiling as he says it. The same gentle lift of the lips that you’ve come to consider a sweet reward for your efforts in making the Rings, helping you get through the long days. Now, however, it sends a shiver down your spine. And, for the first time, it is not the pleasant kind.

“Still,” you say carefully, “I am tired, as you said. I wish to go outside—for a moment’s respite, if nothing else.”

You try to step past him. This time, it’s his hand around your wrist that stops you.

“Rest, if you must,” he says, leaning ever so slightly closer, “but do so here. Then, focus on your work, as you are meant to.”

He doesn’t raise his voice, yet the order in it is unmistakable. And his grip on your wrist is rigid, nothing like the calming touch you’ve known from him so far. You’ve displeased him, that much is clear, and the thought churns in your stomach—but for some reason, your urge to get out demands to be obeyed.

“I shall return to my work,” you press on, “once I come back inside.”

Again, you mean to walk away. You mean to put distance between you, to pull your hand from his.

He won’t let you. The moment you take your first step, his grip tightens and he pulls you back, bringing your hand between your chests and keeping you trapped against your worktable.

“My Lord, please!” you say in disbelief, frantically searching his eyes for any trace of the warmth that was once there. “You are frightening me.”

“You need not be frightened,” he says, a sharp edge to his tone, “so long as you do as I tell you.”

“I—” You stare at him, dumbfounded. You don’t know what’s come over him, but you want no part of it. “Release me at once.”

You try to wrench your hand away from his, but all that does is worsen the pain in your wrist as he keeps it in his iron grip. And yet he looks so eerily calm as he does so, as his other hand suddenly cups your cheek.

“Shh,” he coos softly, “none of that.” Your heart trembles in your chest, painfully confused as he seems to contemplate you. “I thought you’d have let me in by now,” he muses. “But perhaps I should have done this sooner.”

“Done what—?”

His lips meet yours.

It stops. All of it. The confusion, the alarms—those outside as well as those within you. A wave of calm sweeps through the very core of your being, removing in its wake all traces of distress and leaving nothing but sweet surrender. A sound escapes your throat, something like a yelp that turns into a sigh, and...

How is this happening? What came before? You can’t remember, and you don’t care to. All you know is you have imagined this before, desired it deep within your heart, and that desire is being fulfilled. There’s an ache in your wrist, but the pain is dull and you pay it no mind as he tastes your mouth languidly. Your hands come to rest on his chest, his pulling you to him by the waist. And just as you melt into him, weak with desire, he parts his lips from yours.

“Forgive me,” he says softly as your dazed gaze meets his. “Did you mean to go somewhere?”

Your brow furrows as you try to muster enough coherent thought to speak.

“I... I believe I was coming to find you,” you find yourself murmuring. You don’t quite remember, but the words come as naturally to you as the act of breathing. And they feel true, once you’ve spoken them.

The tiniest smile blooms at the corner of his lips.

“I see,” he says, satisfied. “What did you need from me?”

“I... I needed...”

The answer eludes you. You only know what you need now, and the craving is so great you cannot put it into words.

Sure enough, he knows. His eyes hold a teasing glint, almost mean, as he leans down, pressing his lips to a tender spot beneath your ear before whispering into it, “This, perhaps?” His mouth travels lower still, kissing your neck as you tremble in his arms. “Or this?”

“Annatar,” you breathe out, uncaring of his title. Surely, you are beyond formalities now.

“Yes?” he says, awfully innocent, pulling away to look you in the eye once more. “Name your desire, and you shall have it.”

Your skin sizzles where he has touched it, and the hunger in his eyes leaves you breathless, and you are beyond merely voicing what you desire as you press your lips to his once more. He returns your kiss, matching your greed and swallowing your moan, and you think you might become reduced to ashes if he were to let you go.

It’s painful when he pulls away once more. You find yourself chasing his lips, craning your neck for just one more taste, but he cups your cheek to hold you still.

“Easy,” he says softly, yet the sole word feels like a command. You do settle down, though your heart is still rampant in your chest. He seems pleased by it, and that is enough to hold you still. “Now, I’m afraid there is an urgent matter I must discuss with Lord Celebrimbor. But I shall return to you, and...” he trails off, fixing you with a gaze full of promise which stokes the fire in your belly. “Remain here. Speak to no one. Wait for me. Will you do as I tell you?”

The words hold a strange echo. You can’t place it. You only know what the right answer is.

“Yes,” you agree quietly. And mean it.

“Good.” Annatar smiles, thumb brushing the apple of your cheek. “That pleases me greatly.”

The praise continues to warm your heart long after he is gone. You’re painfully aware, somehow, that you could never live without that feeling, or without him, again.

So you do as he told you.

[deliciousangelfestival]

Change of Heart - 3 | Bucky

Character: Bucky x Female! Reader

Theme: Angst, tragedy, romance.

Summary: The interviewer asked her a provocative question:

“If you were offered a million dollars, would you leave your partner?”

Without hesitation, she replied with a smirk, “Give me one dollar, and I’ll leave him this second.”

True to her word, she walked away, leaving the man stunned and searching for answers. Now, he’s desperately trying to find her, grappling with the haunting question—why would she leave him so easily?

And is there more to her departure than a single dollar could ever explain?

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5.

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By the way, I publish my book Arrogant Ex-Husband and Dad, I Can't Let You Go by Alina C. Bing on Kindle.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

"Where is she?" he asked.

"Australia, sir."

Bucky froze in place when he heard that. Australia? It was so unlike you. In all the time you spent together, you always talked about visiting Europe. That was your dream—to save enough money to open a café there, buy a boat, and travel around the continent.

He shook his head, dismissing the thought. It didn’t matter now. At least he finally knew where you were.

"Prepare the jet," he commanded.

After his security team gave him the location, Bucky immediately called his pilot to prepare the plane. Within minutes, he was on his private jet, accompanied by his assistant, who sat nervously across from him.

The assistant hesitated before asking, “Sir, when do you want to reschedule the meeting?”

Bucky didn’t look up from his phone. “If I’m not in the company, there’s a vice president. Let him attend the meeting instead. The company pays him a high salary for a reason. If he makes the wrong agreement at the meeting, I’ll fire him.”

The assistant swallowed hard, his hands fidgeting with the pen in his lap. “Y-Yes, sir.”

Bucky leaned back in his seat, resting his head against the cushion as silence settled between them. The hum of the jet’s engines filled the cabin. His gaze drifted to the window, the clouds blurring past.

The matter of this marriage was far more complicated than any company matter.

He broke the silence. “Do you ever have marriage trouble?”

The assistant’s eyes widened slightly at the unexpected question. “Uh… yes, sir.”

Bucky turned his head slightly toward him. “Have you ever argued to the point where your wife left the house?”

The assistant hesitated, his hands stilling. “That’s… no, sir. We argue sometimes, but not to that extent.”

Bucky exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “I see.”

His situation wasn’t like those couples who separated after endless fights. This marriage was different—it was based on a contract. There was no need for messy legal proceedings or divorce lawyers. No drawn-out drama. It was supposed to be simple, painless.

But it wasn’t.

He rested his elbow on the armrest, his fingers pressing against his temple as memories of his parents’ divorce flashed through his mind. He’d witnessed it all—the yelling, the accusations, the blame. He could still remember the cold, suffocating atmosphere in the negotiation room as both sides tore each other apart. And they’d forced him, a child, to sit there and watch.

They called it love once, but what he saw was anything but. His parents acted like children while he was expected to be the adult.

Marriage was supposed to be a union between two mature individuals who respected its meaning. His parents may have loved each other once, but they destroyed that love with betrayal and adultery.

It was full of lies and deception. For young Bucky, hearing the arguments was painful. Even now, he still feels a lingering resentment toward his parents.

Bucky shook his head, clearing the bitter thoughts. He’d never wanted a traditional marriage because of them. When his grandfather, Paul, had told him he needed to marry to inherit the company, Bucky had been clueless about what to do.

That’s when he remembered a friend mentioning a matchmaking agency. “It’s expensive, but it’s worth it,” his friend had said.

And it was expensive—but it was worth it. With you, he’d fulfilled his grandfather’s condition and taken over the company. You were his perfect partner.

At least, that’s what he thought.

He rubbed his chin as he rewound every moment he’d spent with you, searching for something he might have missed. He couldn’t think of a single instance where he had disrespected you. Both of you respected each other’s personal space and schedules. He knew you had a close relationship with Grace, your best friend.

Friends.

Friends?

His brows furrowed. Now that he thought about it, Grace was the only friend of yours he really knew. While you had met most of his circle, he knew almost nothing about yours.

Bucky leaned forward, clasping his hands together tightly. After giving it more thought, he realized the imbalance in your marriage. He was the dominant one, the one whose needs and routines shaped the relationship.

And he had barely noticed.

His jaw tightened, the weight of his ignorance sinking in. For the first time, he wondered if that was why you left.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

After a long flight, Bucky’s plane finally touched down at the destination. He had managed to close his eyes during the journey, but rest was impossible—his thoughts were consumed by you. Memories, questions, and unspoken words replayed endlessly in his mind.

As he stepped off the plane, the crisp air hit his face, bringing a brief sense of clarity. The head of his security team approached him immediately.

"Sir, we’ve found her location," the man reported.

"Where is she?" Bucky asked, his voice sharp with urgency.

The security detail led Bucky toward the docks, their hurried footsteps crunching against the gravel. His heart was pounding, each step feeling heavier as the weight of anticipation bore down on him. He scanned the area, his sharp eyes searching frantically for any sign of you.

And then, he saw you.

There you were, standing near the edge of the dock, the soft breeze tugging at your hair as you stared out at the endless horizon. The setting sun cast a golden glow around you, making you look almost ethereal, like a mirage he’d conjured in his desperation.

His breath hitched. Relief washed over him first, flooding his chest so quickly that it nearly brought him to his knees. After days of relentless searching, and agonizing over where you could be, there you were—within reach.

But then came the ache. A sharp, searing pain in his chest that he hadn’t expected. Seeing you standing so calmly as if the world hadn’t turned upside down for him, struck a chord deep within. You looked so at peace, so distant, and he couldn’t understand it.

His legs moved before his mind could catch up. He closed the distance between you in long, determined strides, his emotions spiraling into a chaotic storm. Relief, anger, confusion, longing—it all melded together as his voice broke through the silence.

He called your name, loud and raw, the sound carrying across the water.

You turned, startled, your wide eyes locking with his. For a moment, time seemed to freeze. He saw the flicker of surprise on your face, the way your lips parted slightly as if you were about to say something. But what shook him most was what he didn’t see.

There was no regret in your eyes.

Bucky’s chest tightened, his fists clenching instinctively at his sides. How could you look at him like that—so calm, so unaffected—when he’d been unraveling without you? He reached you in a few quick strides, his hand shooting out to grab yours before you could move another step.

Bucky’s heart pounded as he called out your name, his voice cutting through the sound of the waves. You turned, visibly startled but composed, no trace of regret on your face.

He didn’t stop running until he reached you, grabbing your hand before you could step onto the yacht. "Why did you leave?" he demanded, his tone raw with frustration. "Didn’t I say we’d talk this through?"

You look at him, your eyes steady but filled with quiet resolve. “I don’t want to continue the marriage contract."

“I know.” He fell silent, his gaze locking onto yours. “It’s because of me, isn’t it?”

"No," you replied, shaking your head with a soft smile. "Didn’t you get the letter I left for you?"

Bucky frowned, the words unsettling him. The letter? What could it possibly say that justified this?

"It’s not you," you said, your tone steady. "It’s me."

"Lies," he shot back, his voice clipped with disbelief.

"It’s not," you insisted firmly.

"Explain it to me like I’m five years old," he demanded, his frustration and confusion bubbling to the surface.

You sighed, gathering your thoughts. "In the contract, we promised no lies, no deception. We even agreed that if one of us developed feelings, the marriage would end before things got messy."

Your gaze softened as you added, "Bucky, I love you."

The confession hit him like a tidal wave, leaving him stunned and speechless. He had braced himself for accusations, for anger, but not this.

You took advantage of his silence, gently pulling your hand free from his grasp. You turned to the captain of the yacht and gave a subtle nod, signaling him to start the engine.

As the boat began to drift away from the dock, Bucky’s senses returned. "Where are you going?" he called out, his voice tinged with desperation.

"Anywhere," you replied, your words floating back to him.

Standing at the edge of the dock, he could only watch as the boat carried you farther away.

From your place on the yacht, you glanced back at him. “What a fool,” you murmured, shaking your head. “I told everyone not to let you find me.”

The captain, standing at the helm, turned to you and asked, “How far do you want to go?”

"Keep sailing until I say stop," you said, your tone resolute.

"Alright," the captain replied, steering the yacht into the open sea.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

The yacht moved steadily through the endless expanse of blue, its wake cutting a gentle path through the water. You stood at the edge of the deck, the wind brushing against your face, carrying with it the salty tang of the sea. The horizon stretched infinitely, meeting the sky in a blur of hazy gold and blue. You closed your eyes for a moment, letting the breeze tangle your hair and the sun warm your skin.

“It’s beautiful,” you thought. The kind of beauty that felt untouched, unclaimed—exactly what you were searching for.

“This is it,” you murmured, barely audible to yourself.

With steady steps, you approached the captain’s cabin. He glanced at you briefly, his expression questioning.

“Stop here,” you said.

“Are you sure?” His voice carried the weight of uncertainty.

“Yes.” Your answer was firm, final.

He nodded and went to work, releasing the anchor with a heavy clunk as it descended into the ocean’s depths. The yacht slowed to a gentle halt, rocking slightly with the rhythm of the waves.

Without hesitation, you peeled off your clothes, revealing the simple swimsuit underneath. The air felt cool against your skin, but it didn’t matter. You stepped to the edge of the deck, your toes curling over the rim. For a brief second, you inhaled deeply, and then you leaped.

The water embraced you like an old friend. It was cold but refreshing, its weight washing over you, pulling you into its quiet, endless depths. You swam, letting your body move freely, unbound by the constraints of gravity or obligation.

You dove deeper, the light above you diffusing into shimmering rays that danced like silver ribbons. Down here, there were no walls to confine you, no contracts to dictate your actions. It was just you and the ocean—an infinite space where you could finally breathe.

For the first time in years, you felt free.

You floated on your back, staring up at the vast sky. The sun cast a golden glow across the water’s surface, making it sparkle like liquid diamonds. You let out a long breath, your body rising and falling with the gentle waves. This was what you had been looking for—a release from the weight of expectations and the burden of feeling tethered to things you didn’t truly want.

You didn’t understand why, but in this moment of letting go—of money, of love, of the life you’d meticulously built—you felt alive.

All your life, it had been about money. Growing up with a father whose high income only highlighted what was still lacking, you learned early that nothing was ever enough. There was always another competition to win, another prize to chase. Independence wasn’t just encouraged; it was demanded.

Money became your anchor, the thing that kept you afloat. You thrived on it, obsessed over it. You checked your bank accounts daily, reveling in the sight of green numbers climbing higher and higher. It was intoxicating, the sense of control and success that came with it.

Each time you earned more money, it was a step closer to impressing your parents. Impressing them became a lifelong goal—one that would finally make them say, “We’re proud of you.” But no matter how much you earned, it was never enough.

And then there was love—a concept you understood in theory but never cared to possess. Money filled the void better than any romantic notion ever could. Love was messy, complicated, and it demanded sacrifices you weren’t willing to make. Money didn’t ask for your vulnerability; it only required your focus, your ambition, your endless thirst for more.

The two were the same, you realized. Money and love—they both left you parched, chasing something that always seemed just out of reach.

Then what were the other things that made you confront money and love at the same time?

When you joined the matchmaking agency to find a wealthy partner, you hadn’t really thought it through. There wasn’t a grand plan, just the vague hope of finding someone who could meet your terms. Honestly, you expected the candidates to be older men—someone seeking a companion to attend events with, nothing more. You had even specified one unique condition in your profile: no intimacy.

So, it came as a shock when the person who agreed to your circumstances turned out to be Bucky Barnes—a man only two years older than you. Not only that, but he was willing to pay an impressive amount to seal the deal.

When it was Bucky’s turn to lay out his requirements, everything seemed to align perfectly. He needed a partner who could convincingly play the role of a devoted spouse, just long enough for him to inherit his family’s company. You knew you could handle that. Pretending to be his loving wife? It felt like an easy role to play.

His parents were simple to fool, far less intimidating than your own strict, demanding family. The real challenge, however, was his grandfather, Paul. With his sharp eyes and no-nonsense demeanor, Paul had a knack for spotting liars. Yet, even he couldn’t see through you. You gave him exactly what he longed for—a granddaughter-in-law who treated him with genuine care. That part was easy because you understood what it felt like to crave love and approval.

The first year flew by without a hitch. You and Bucky played your roles to perfection. The arrangement opened doors for both of you—financially and socially. When the time came to discuss extending the contract for another year, you agreed without hesitation. The benefits far outweighed any drawbacks.

But then, somewhere in the second year, things began to shift. You started to feel something for Bucky—something dangerous. It wasn’t part of the deal, and you hated yourself for it. From the start, Bucky had been upfront about his feelings—or lack thereof. For him, love was a waste of time. He had no use for romance, and you had respected that. Until now.

You couldn’t stop it, though. No matter how hard you tried to suppress your emotions, they crept in, uninvited. It was written clearly in your agreement: no feelings, no complications. If either party broke that rule, the contract would be terminated immediately.

So, you buried your feelings as best you could. Love was messy, unpredictable, and it made you want things you couldn’t have. It filled your mind with fantasies, leaving you restless and craving more. And you despised it.

You just needed to hold on a little longer.

But then, everything changed.

Two days before the marriage contract was set to end, something happened—something you hadn’t anticipated.

And in that moment, you realized nothing would ever be the same again.

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[xskyll]

Quirkless Deku AU in which, after All Might tells Izuku he can't be a hero, Izuku takes the words to heart and decides to completely cut heroics out of his life, so he isn't reminded of his failed dream. He doesn't have any social media and doesn't read news articles about heroes. If a hero is mentioned on tv, he turns it off. He buys the same, non-sponsored groceries all the time, and he forks out the extra money to go ad-free on things like YouTube, so he never sees them in commercials. We know he's a thorough person, and he applies those skills, avoiding heroes to an impressive extent and just focusing on whatever new career path he set his eyes on (Maybe botany? But this isn't just like, basic flower shop AU. He's super smart, so my boy is probably breeding award-winning new species of orchids or some shit.)

As such, he ends up being probably the only person in Japan who has never heard of Todoroki Shouto.

They have some sort of meet-cute, and at first, Shouto can't figure out why this guy is pretending not to know who he is (is he trying to be polite, pretending Shouto is normal??), but eventually he realizes Izuku legitimately has no clue who he is, and Shouto is soooo enamoured, because Izuku is so nice and seems genuinely interested in him, and for the first time, Shouto knows it's all sincere and not someone trying to get close to him because he's famous. He becomes desperate to keep his profession a secret, leading to some comically close calls. But the longer it goes, the harder he falls, and Momo keeps insisting he has to tell Izuku the truth because he can't enter a serious relationship with this huge lie between them. But just when he's about to fess up, something happens that makes it clear to him that Izuku isn't just out of touch with popular culture, he is /actively/ avoiding heroes and dislikes hearing about them, which makes Shouto think he'll stop talking to him, and he doesn't know what to do, and now Jirou is helping Momo scold him, and he's so stressed.

Of course, the boys don't realize they know someone in common. Bakugou somehow lets the cat out of the bag, not knowing Shouto was keeping his heroics a secret. (Back to botany...maybe instead of orchids, Izu specializes in poisonous plants? And a new poison is involved in some sort of crime, and the police want him on as a consult, and Bakugou ends up involved on the heroics end of things, leading to a reunion with Izuku who he hasn't seen since middle school. Somehow Shouto comes up in conversation while they're working on the case.)

And then it all goes to shit, Idk what happens next. Izuku is more upset about being lied to than Shouto being a hero, and Shouto has to prove he wasn't just messing around. I feel like there's a scene in there where Izuku cries on his mom's lap, and Shouto gets an earful from her. They make up, of course, and start dating. Since this is one of my ideas, they probably get married in the epilogue.

[sunny-day-jack-official]

Dear Fans of SnaccPop Studios,

We recognize that many of you have questions about SnaccPop Studios and recent events. We want to provide clarity, particularly in relation to personal relationships among colleagues, our fans, workplace ethics and defamation.

First, we need to clear up allegations about our team's payments. Previous leadership had poor communication and time management skills, which caused contractor payments to be delayed. Inadequate management prompted us to make managerial changes over the summer. Under new management, recent delays occurred because we needed to wait for state and federal approvals, transfer managerial revenue, and draft new contracts which team members were made aware of. Additionally, we faced defamatory accusations regarding two team members crowdfunding efforts for housing and cancer treatment. These accusations falsely implied that we had not paid them, which led some individuals to demand that we use our Patreon and Kickstarter funds to cover their expenses in full. SnaccPop Studios operates as a zero-profit entity and cannot cover anything beyond production costs.

Some team members shared partial work-related information with their friends and associates. These friends and associates, without having the full context and knowledge, made incorrect assumptions and drew premature conclusions about our workplace practices. Certain individuals spread misinformation and lies in private group chats and servers based on what our team members said to them in confidence. Some of these individuals in these group chats and servers were also mutual friends of JambeeBot. These individuals believed that defamation, humiliation, and isolation were justifiable punishments for JambeeBot, and by extension SnaccPop Studios, for not releasing Something's Wrong with Sunny Day Jack on its intended release date. Ultimately, these actions led to JambeeBot posting a mental health crisis note on Twitter (X). These events have left our team members feeling demoralized, dehumanized, betrayed, and deeply hurt. We ask those reading this not to seek out these individuals. If they reveal themselves and publicly apologize, we urge you not to respond with harassment or threats.

The actions of these individuals have caused our team members to feel anxious, fearful, and saddened around our projects. Some team members have even considered leaving SnaccPop Studios and creative work altogether. It is deeply disheartening to see the extent to which some individuals have gone to hurt others over a game. No project, media, franchise, or character should be so central to someone's identity, self-worth, or emotional stability that it justifies harming others. Creative projects are meant to bring joy, entertainment, and connection—these individuals tainted that by turning a source of delight and fun into anguish and dread. Their actions have undermined the creative spirit that fuels these projects, making it harder for us to feel safe, inspired, and excited to continue the work we love.

We urge everyone to reflect on how they engage with creators, projects, and fandom spaces. Respect, empathy, and understanding are essential to maintaining a supportive and collaborative environment. Our team members should not fear humiliation, isolation, and defamation due to release delays, creative directions, or unforeseen production challenges. We ask for your understanding and respect as we work to maintain our boundaries and focus on moving forward.

Finally, we want to kindly inform our audience that the absence of a production update simply means there are no new or significant developments to report currently. Rest assured; we will communicate any important updates as soon as they become available. Speculation and rumors during periods of silence add unnecessary stress and hinder our ability to focus on creating content. We respectfully ask that you refrain from making potentially defamatory assumptions when updates are delayed.

Sincerely,

The SnaccPop Studios Team

[quintessenceofdust88]

perfect (it's not all it's cracked up to be)

Hello everyone! I promised you guys that the sequel for this prompt would be up by the weekend, right? Turns out I only sorta lied cause it's still Monday hehe. I hope you enjoy it!

You can read it on AO3 if you'd prefer! ❤️

When Tommy wakes up, it’s like his body is on fire and freezing at the same time; half of his body feels numb, and the other half is hurting like never before. Huh, maybe his father had a point and all queer freaks end up in hell. Then again, considering one of his last deeds on Earth was walking out on sunshine itself, maybe it’s not about his queerness after all; it’s about Tommy himself. 

He hears a heart monitor at his side, and that gives him pause; he doesn’t think the afterlife bothers with medical devices, so… So maybe he’s alive? If only opening his eyes didn’t feel like it would hurt so much, Tommy could try and find out (not that he knows what hell looks like; it could be like a hospital room, for all he knows). He tries it anyway, letting out a grunt as it, indeed, hurts like a bitch. 

“Oh my God, you’re awake!” A voice says to his right side, and yeah, now Tommy’s pretty sure he’s not in hell. Evan Buckley doesn’t belong in hell, not even as part of Tommy’s eternal torture. 

As his vision clears, Tommy sees Evan is on a chair by his side, and he looks… Rough. There’s stubble covering his cheeks and dark circles under his eyes. He’s looking at Tommy with despair clearly written in his permanently wet eyes, as if he’s afraid Tommy will disappear if he looks away. And to Tommy, it’s still instinct to comfort Evan, to try and find something to say that’ll make him feel better.

“You found your present” He says dumbly, his eyes not leaving the burgundy hoodie that’s so beautifully wrapped around Evan’s frame, making him look as cozy and adorable as Tommy expected. And, well. It might not have been the smartest thing to say, but he supposes there’s a lot of morphine going through his body right now. 

“Well, yeah, after you told my sister where it was as your helicopter crashed? After you wished me Merry Christmas and Happy New Year as your parting words?! It wasn’t so difficult” He answers with a somewhat hysterical chuckle. “What the hell, Tommy?! You’re too much of a coward to actually let yourself be loved and see a future with me, but not to send a farewell message to me through dispatch?! You’re unbelievable!”

“Buck…” He starts, but it’s clear he won’t get to say anything this time. For one, his brain is still working a little too slow to translate thoughts into words. Evan seems to notice it, and lets out a defeated sigh. 

“We… We’ll talk later, ok? Let’s get a doctor to check on you first. Sorry, that should have been the first thing I did” He says grumpily, and presses the button by Tommy’s bed. 

From them on, it’s a flutter of doctors and nurses, and Tommy learns the extent of the damage: a broken femur, at least five crushed ribs and a small concussion, not to mention the thousand bruises that turned his whole left side black and blue; he hasn’t looked at a mirror yet, but it can’t be pretty. 

“Yeah, well, you should’ve seen the other guy, doc” He attempts to joke, and Evan’s scoff and the doctor’s exasperated look make it clear it wasn’t his best attempt. “So, let’s talk business, doc. Will I fly again?” Tommy asks, because that’s the question that matters the most. 

He realizes with a treacherous skip to his heart that Evan looks as interested in the answer as Tommy himself. During the whole time the doctor is talking to him about treatments and physical therapy and his perspective to get back to work, he stays by his side, nodding attentively at everything the doctor says (as if he’ll be involved in your treatment, a hopeful part of his brain that should have quieted down weeks ago supplies, and Tommy does his best not to listen to it, because it’ll hurt so bad when it’s not the case). 

When the doctor makes it clear that Tommy will not go back to the air for at least six months, Evan squeezes his hand and gives him a look of solidarity that goes a long way to make it not feel like the end of the world. And when the nurse comes to up Tommy’s dosage of morphine and redress his wounds, he doesn’t let go of his hand. Tommy wants to say something, anything, but he’s received a lot of information and the morphine running through his veins makes it difficult to put his thoughts into words. But he doesn’t want to fall asleep; he doesn’t want to let Evan go. 

“Sleep, Tommy” Evan tells him in a firm tone. “I’ll be here when you wake up. Then we’ll talk”

It sounds too good to be true; Tommy refuses to believe it. Evan would have every right to leave him to fend for himself; he wouldn’t blame him in the slightest. He closes his eyes, fully expecting to find an empty room when he wakes up.

But contrary to all expectations, when Tommy opens his eyes again, feeling slightly more like a person and less like a shapeless bruise, is to find Evan in the same chair, only with the black hoodie this time, and a cup of coffee in his hand. 

He’s impossibly handsome in black, Tommy thinks dazedly, taking advantage of the fact Evan’s looking down at his phone to take a good look at him. There are dark circles under his eyes, and Tommy wonders if he’s been home at all. 

His heart does another one of those treacherous leaps, and Tommy is having a hard time keeping the hope from bubbling in his chest. Because if this man saw Tommy at his worst, physically and (especially) emotionally, and was willing to stay this long by his side, who’s to say he won’t stay longer? He was willing to; Tommy was the one who fled, thinking it was about the excitement of a new relationship, but staying by his side after a helicopter crash is something entirely different. Who’s to say he won’t just… stay?

Tommy has to be brave; hell, he’s been brave before, on that glorious night where he took a leap of faith and placed a kiss to the man who had maimed his best friend for Tommy’s attention. Evan had been brave, if a little misguided, when he invited Tommy to move in with him. He owes him some bravery right now. If nothing else, he owes him some honesty after everything.

“You were right” He blurts out, and Evan looks up from his phone, staring at him with widened blue eyes. 

“H-hey, you’re up! Do… Do you need anything? I can call the nurse…” He trails off when Tommy’s hand, the one which is less covered in scrapes and bruises, reaches out to lightly touch his.

“I just need you to listen to me. You… you were right, Evan. I was a coward. I am a coward. I… I don’t know how to be loved. I never was” He admits it, and hates himself for choking up as he says it. This isn’t a pity party; he’s just stating a fact: the sky is blue, alcohol is flammable, Thomas Kinard was never loved. He hates how it makes Evan’s whole demeanor soften, because Tommy doesn’t deserve it. 

“Then let me love you” Evan whispers, taking Tommy’s hand in both of his. “Let me teach you how it feels. It’s… It’s not like I’m an expert at it, ok? I… I haven’t always been loved either. But… but I love you. You broke my fucking heart, Tommy, and I still love you. Do… do you love me?”

“With all of my heart” Tommy whispers back, and he can’t keep a tear from running down his face. Hell, he almost died, he’s allowed to be emotional. “T-that’s why I had to leave, Evan. If… If you didn’t love me back… If you found out I wasn’t perfect…”

“I know you’re not perfect, Tommy. But guess what? I love you anyway, you idiot” He says, pressing a kiss to Tommy’s forehead, another to the tip of his nose, and a very tender one to his lips. “You… You always wanted me to see you as perfect. You barely let me in all the time we were together. But I saw it anyway, Tommy, and I still wanted you. I still want you”

“I… I was so afraid of being hurt that I didn’t think I’d be hurting you” Tommy admits with a sigh. “A-actually I didn’t think you’d be hurt. I… I thought you’d be okay. I’m sorry, Evan”

“Well, I wasn’t okay. Just ask all of my friends and the thousand loaves of bread in their pantries” He says with a chuckle, and then looks Tommy deeply in the eyes. “Next time, talk to me instead of doing a dramatic exit. And don’t wait till you almost die to let me know where my Christmas presents are”

Tommy chuckles, and squeezes Evan’s hand. He wishes he could sit up and kiss him within an inch of his life, but it  sounds a little out of his physical abilities right now. He’ll content himself, with a peck on the lips before Evan sits back down, still holding Tommy’s hand in his. 

“I promise Christmas will be perfect” He says, and Evan shakes his head.

“I don’t need perfect, Tommy. I just need you”

–

And Christmas is not perfect. Tommy’s still mostly on bed rest and his leg’s still in a cast. Buck’s staying at his place for now to help him around, but they decided to leave any serious conversations about moving in to after New Year’s. They haven’t really decorated (Tommy was too depressed to bother, and Buck didn’t really have the time between his shifts and taking care of Tommy) and their plans for the day mostly consist in staying in bed and alternating between cheesy rom-coms and documentaries. 

It’s not perfect. They are not perfect. But they’re together, and Tommy finds himself thanking any deity out there for his accident. That it brought Evan back to him, and more importantly, him back to Evan. 

Buck’s wearing his new burgundy hoodie, and he gives Tommy the airplane model that he stubbornly kept in the hood of the Jeep all this time. They assemble it together, and it’s not the best, because Tommy’s hands are still a little sore and Buck’s not very good at the whole arts and crafts thing, but Tommy puts in his nightstand with adoration anyway. 

And if there’s no tree, no Christmas dinner, no cheesy sweaters, well. They can always make up for it next Christmas.

--

Tag list: (let me know if you’d like to be removed or if I missed anyone! Also if you'd rather only be tagged on Little Blobs' verse, also let me know! ♥)

@bidisasterevankinard @unhingedangstaddict @silversky9 @music-is-the-voice-of-the-soul @asmugfirefighter  @rubydaiquiri @racerchix21 @actuallyitsellie  

[trans-luis-serra-navarro]

OP I sincerely hope you don’t mind me writing an essay in the tags cuz I have Luis Serra autism this is like. My jam ABDBWHBEHDNDHX

So here's the thing. I do think Luis worked on Project Nemesis in the remake timeline. I tried double checking the in game evidence around this statement, and it's still a little vague but why not. At the time he is in his early 20s which, for a lot of people, is a very high pressure time of growth. Navigating adulthood, figuring your personhood out, and feeling like there's an invisible timer to accomplishing something important are pretty common experiences for that age range. Not to mention just trying to survive at all when living and supporting yourself is being balanced with the rest of that nonsense.

Before the project, I do think Luis was working on standard over the counter medicine. I think his genuine goal was to make something that hadn't been done yet. He wanted to make something there was a need for and he failed. He kept failing utterly at it, and his self-esteem took some heavy hits during this process. This meant when he was offered to start working with his team named on his lighter, he goes for it. He's also good at it. Great at it. For some reason, working with parasites comes completely natural to him. He makes a lot of breakthroughs, and the praise he receives in return diminishes the self-deprecation he might've been lumping on himself for past failures. He's pretty sure he's found his calling until he gets to see what they've made together.

And it's horrible. It's the opposite reaction of what Wesker has with the completed Tyrant. He's terrified. He's confused. He's maybe even angry with everything but especially angry with himself, and he knows what happens after this. He knows with a success there'll be more. He knows with a success they won't stop, so he runs away. He puts a lot of effort into vanishing since he knows he's the key to keeping a smooth manufacturing process, and he's right. They can only make the one, and the issues he theoretically could solve for duplicates he is no longer there to solve.

He probably mopes for a while, tries to tell himself there was nothing more he could've done, and he goes home to see the people he knew falling ill. With parasites. That's his thing! That's his thing he can do!!! That's his thing he can fix!!! The leaders, only one of which he did trust, gave him the gracious opportunity to fix it. To save people. To save the people he knew, and he succeeds. He makes something to save those people only to find out it was a lie. All of it.

It's not like the first time where he chose to make something horrible for the sake of needing a win only to run away from the consequences. This time he went in with good intentions to help people and stop a plague only to become a tool in progressing it. No wonder he was so desperate to help when we see him interacting with Ada in the DLC. He's trying so hard to do everything on his own terms to get the results he wants because the failure of upholding his code of ethics led to the production of a weapon of terror and the success of upholding his code of ethics led to the production of a weapon of terror, so when does it end!!!!! When do his intentions actually have the effect he desires? When can his mind, his skills, his abilities actually help people for once? And then Leon and Ashley appear, and his work helps them like he wants it to help people, and he never gets to bask in that accomplishment!!!!

[vvynia]

smut ramble: ellie reading your body

pairing: e. williams x reader

genre: smut + fluff

word count: 440

warnings: language that explicitly denotes reader as afab, this is literally smut so reader's discretion is advised for that alone and MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mention of past erotic choking but overall very vanilla

author’s note: i was straight up in the middle of reading another fic writer’s smut and got a burst of inspiration, then i wrote this. yay !! also, as a black woman, i usually write for black readers but reader’s race doesn’t make a monumental impact in this little drabble x4, so go crazy !! also, these dividers are by @cafekitsune ! the goat.

just had the most random (not really, i’ve been thinking about this for the last week and a half actually) thought of how tender ellie is with you; how, when she has you naked under the heat of her eyes, spread open for her in the most testimonal manner, she presses her center to your’s with the utmost care; how she slots her body against your’s just right. skin to skin, breaths in sync. that harmony always comes to an end, however, when she begins to circle her hips. her goal is to catch your clit with her’s just how you both like.

you’re sopping wet and, goodness, she can hear so vivdly the way her essence mingles with yours—lovingly, carnally, desperately. the slick of you two is hightened by the silence and stillness of the room. after all, not much moves on the acres of a farm in the middle of jackson county, wyoming just hours before sunrise (except the two women occupying the house, of course).

the aura around you two buzzes, and as she grows more needy for her release, ellie’s grunts and pants waltz with your whines. her gait is getting you a little too worked up for her liking, however. she sees the signs: tremoring thighs, thready inhales, lost hands begging for a place to squeeze and tug for refuge.

these make her slow just enough to turn your cries indignant. you lift your eyelids so you can glare your annoyance into her, but ellie’s already caught you in her gaze.

she husks, “keep ‘em open, baby.” she leans further into you to put a calloused hand on your cheek and a soft kiss upon your lips. “you gotta keep ‘em open if you wanna cum harder, remember?”

you do remember.

you remember the first time ellie made you squirt. it was when she’d wrapped her hand into a near-fist around your throat and forced you to give her your undivided attention as she fucked her strap into you at a pace so brutal, you had bambi legs afterward.

though, like i said, ellie williams is gentle today. she realigns your focus by gradually finding the pace she’d kept before your burst of excitement. she splays her hand across your hip, smooches the plush of your calf, and manages to never lose your eyes the entire time.

a cracked moan and a yelp later, you cum unbidden.

the moral of the story lies here: ellie speaks the language of your body as though she’s been studying linguistics for the entirety of her life. to such extent and farther, that is how much she loves you.

@picklesarenice69 - girl, i know this isn’t what you’ve been asking me to tag you in, but i wrote something and i thought you might appreciate it 😂

[byechristopher]

Quiet [0.2].

-MATT STURNIOLO SMUT.

PART ONE.

Author's note: Y'ALL, I have been gone for more than a month, oof.. anyways, I still love y'all. I like to believe that I am back now.. but we'll see. I am a very spontaneous bitch, you see. Enough with the rambling. Matt smut. Part two. Let's go. Do not copy/steal my work. :)

Warnings: long, filthy smut, car sex in the middle of nowhere, matt is a dom, etc. Minors dni! Also, didn't proofread.

I hated how much I wanted more, straight away. I can still feel his fingers inside me and still, that isn't enough. Once the movie ended, he retained his embrace, a gesture I welcomed. The cool touch of his silver chain on the back of my neck and the gentle pressure from the rings on his fingers created a sensation, not quite reaching the point of discomfort.

"Tell them you gotta leave." Matt whispers in my ear and I realise that he wasn't lying earlier – we're going to his car. Good God.

I don't have to respond, not even nod, I just get up (after making sure I'm wearing my pants correctly, of course) and head to the kitchen, where my other friends are.

"Y'all, I'd love to stay for another movie but I have to leave. My roommate has locked herself out."

Lies, lies, lies. But I didn't care enough to feel bad, not when I was about to get eaten by Matthew.

Speaking of the devil, "I can take you home. I have to leave too anyway."

And with that, we were out of the apartment. Not wasting any time, we almost run towards the car and Matt starts driving almost right away. Despite still looking appealing, his hair appears noticeably more disheveled than earlier in the day, and he seems slightly flustered.

My hand lands on his clothed thigh gently, rubbing it up and down, and he gives me a warning glare, "I'm driving."

"I know." is the only thing I say before my hand travels up to his crotch.

He casts me a disapproving glance, yet he refrains from stopping me; he's curious about the extent of my boldness. What he doesn't know is that, in his presence, I disregard all limits. With that determination, I unzip his pants, gradually lowering both his pants and boxers to expose him. The image of Matt glancing between me, the road, and his attempts to drive with his dick hard against his tummy, is one that I doubt will ever fade from my mind.

I spit in my hand and wrap my fingers around his cock, earning a soft moan of relief from him. I start moving my hand up and down, rotating my wrist while looking at him.

"Be careful, Matty." I whisper, leaning in to give him a kiss on the cheek and I know he would probably fuck the shit out of me now if he could.

"Fuck.." he grunts, knuckles turning white on the steering wheel, his hips bucking.

I lean down to wrap my lips around the tip and he almost loses control; I give it a sloppy kiss and then pull away, returning back to my seat as if nothing happened.

Matt shoots me one of his infamous death glares before abruptly pulling over. His actions unfold too quickly for me to fully grasp; he hastily adjusts his pants and signals for me to shift to the backseat, a command I promptly follow.

Without uttering a word, I observe him as he exits the car and then moving to the backseat as well, internally appreciating the fact that he owns a large, spacious car. I am sitting on the middle seat, he hooks his fingers under my panties and pants, pulling them down and then completely taking them off.

"You think teasing me is funny?" he hums, he spreads my legs wide open, placing my feet on each seat, fully exposing me to him. His hands move underneath my butt, his fingers digging into the soft skin as he pushes my hips upwards – my pussy a breath away from his hungry mouth.

"You know, I kept thinking.." he whispers, his hands caressing my thighs, "..when you came on my fingers.." he continues, his fingers dangerously close to my core, "..how much I wanted your juices in my mouth instead." he looks at me, giving me a small smile.

"Matty, please.." I sigh, I can feel my wetness dripping down already.

"And you know, I get anything I want." he nods, his index finger pressing my clit, earning a loud moan from me. He starts rubbing small circles on it, placing soft kisses on the lips.

Now teasing my most sensitive part with his thumb, he leans in, sticking his warm tongue out to lick my wet entrance, moaning. With his fingers on each side of my pussy, he spreads it delicately as he presses his tongue flat against my clit, rubbing it while letting the tip of it poke my entrance.

"Matt.. fuck.. please!" you can hear a mixture of frustration, anticipation and pleasure in my voice, but it most certainly doesn't make Matt move faster.

"You're dripping, sweetheart." he chuckles, amused. His tongue reaches all the way down, and then up to my clit, eventually wrapping his lips around it and sucking it.

I let my head fall backwards, pulling my shirt up to reveal my breasts – I quickly grab both of them, pinching the nipples while Matt is licking hungrily down there, as if he hadn't eaten for days. He pushes his tongue inside of me and I almost cum right then and there; he notices that, so he takes his tongue out slowly and then shoves it back in. He keeps doing that while teasing my clit with his thumb.

"Yes, yes, yes.. please.." I plead and whimper, I don't exactly know what I'm pleading for.

I let go of one breast to grab a fistful of Matt's hair instead, tugging at it and pushing his head towards my core even more (not that it was even possible, Matt was practically buried in my pussy, tongue inside of me, his nose pressed against my clit). I can feel him moving his tongue, still fucking me with it as he rubs and pinches my clit with his fingers – his free hand moves to my other breast, squeezing it and smacking it.

"Matty.. Matty, I – I'm.. fuck!" I cry out but he never stops, "I'm cumming.. I'm – yes.." and with that last word, I shake and tremble underneath his touch, finally letting go on his tongue, which he embraces with love, making sure not a single drop of my wetness goes to waste.

"That's my baby.." he praises and if I wasn't so lost in pleasure, I would've blushed.

He carefully grabs my legs, placing them on his shoulders as he presses kisses all over my thighs, making sure I calm down before we do anything else.

"Matt.." I moan gently, looking at him.

"Don't look at me like that. Your voice already makes it hard for me." he hums, squeezing my legs every now and then.

"Can you sit down instead? I wanna taste you." my hands squeeze my breasts.

"Can I ever deny you when you're looking at me like that, hm?" it is a rhetorical question but it still makes me laugh.

I move to the other seat while he takes my place, quickly taking his pants and boxers off, leaving his with his hoodie on. Before i start anything, he cups my cheeks and pulls me closer, kissing my nose and then my lips. I get down on my knees, in the same place he was earlier, almost drooling at the sight of his cock. It looks big and hard, and wet, and red. Hell.

"Come on, baby." he encourages, smiling while his hand grabs my chin, bringing me closer.

I nod, smiling, leaning in to grab the base with my hand, bringing his cock closer to my mouth and then eventually wrapping my lips around it. I move my mouth up and down the tip, just to tease him a little, looking up at him as I push my head further down. The more of him I take into my mouth, the more it stretches around him, making me drool all over his dick.

"Mmm, princess, that's it. You can take it." I'm not sure if it's a statement or a disguised warning but I take it either way.

He cups my cheeks and pushes me down on him, my watering eyes struggling to maintain eye contact. He looks at me with pride, almost, as he keeps my head in place while moving his hips, pushing his cock in and out of my mouth. I choke and gag around him but thay doesn't stop me, nor him.

"I'm close.. fuck." he groans, biting down on his bottom lip as he lets go of my head, moving one arm behind the seat and grabbing my hand gently with his free hand.

I move my mouth up and down, sucking his cock hungrily while looking at him, almost feeling it throb in my mouth – my free hand squeezes his thigh and my other hand, squeezes his.

"That's it.. that's it.." he moans, "..open your mouth, stick your tongue out.." he orders and I obey, jerking him off instead, "I wanna see your pretty mouth filling with my cum." he says and I moan just at the thought.

I move my hand up and down his cock, mouth open and tongue sticking out just like he ordered, looking at him the whole time. With a loud moan and groan from him, I can feel his warm cum landing on my tongue, slowly but steadily filling my mouth.

"Fuck.. baby.." he moans, caressing my hair, not daring to look anywhere else but me, "..open your mouth, let me see." he says and I know he wants to see a clean mouth. So that's exactly what I show him; he grins, "mm, such a good girl, aren't you?" yet another rhetorical question but again, it makes me smile either way.

He leans in to grab me and pull me into his lap, hugging me close to him as he lets me bury my face into his neck, breathing in his delicious scent, "you good, darling?" he whispers.

"More than good." I mumble against his skin and I can feel him chuckle, his hands rubbing up and down my back, his lips placing kisses on my head.

"You taste amazing." he whispers to tease me and it works; I can feel the blush creeping up my cheeks and I'm glad he's not able to see me.

"So do you." he pulls away just a bit to give me a kiss on the lips.

[mythicmanuscripts]

Hiiii <3 i absolutely adore your works, I have been SEARCHING for someone who appreciates the sub!hotd boys

I saw that you recently wrote this for Jace, but I've been thinking so so hard about taking care of sub!Aemond when he's not feeling good/sick, the way he would absolutely install all of his trust into his beloved, and completely melt away in their arms! Especially if he has a stomach bug or something like that.

We know how he feels about people in his space, so he definitely doesn't want the maesters or servants near him, so all of his care is basically through his lover 😵‍💫😭

I love this idea! I also think it's very funny how much we all love torturing these characters.

There's nothing NSFW in this answer but the vibes are definitely sub!aemond and also I do make reference to what happened at the brothel when he was 13 so I'm gonna hide it behind a cut just in case.

Firstly, Aemond trust is very VERY hard to get. You are the only person he actually trusts. Sure there are some others he trusts to certain extents, but you are the only one with his full trust. A big part about why you have that level of trust is because of how you protect him and his vulnerabilities? You will never ever let anyone else see him in a vulnerable position. Plenty of people have tried to get you to reveal things about Aemond to them and of course you always tell them to get lost and then tell Aemond about it later. There are no secrets between the two of you, ever.

(And I really do mean ever, not even white lies, not even a lie that sets up a surprise for him, nothing. In fact you go out of your way to always ensure he knows what's going on with you and letting him tell you what's happening with him. It's this constant, open communication that really solidifies the relationship for Aemond. You become his safe space, and he becomes yours)

So when Aemond gets sick, his first reaction is absolutely to find you and ask for support. In fact, he probably doesn't been realise it? He just feels bad and before he knows what's going on he's wondering around the keep trying to find you.

It's because he always feels better when he's in the same space as you? He just feels so much more secure when he's with you, when he knows he has someone who is 100% on his side and have his back.

You know something is wrong the moment you spot him because he doesn't actually come to you and join the conversation you're having, instead he just stands there watching you. He looks even paler than normal. You quickly excuse yourself from the conversation and go to him.

The first thing you do is ask what's wrong and he actually doesn't answer the first time. There are too many people around and he doesn't want anyone else hearing that he's not feeling well. So you take him to your shared chambers and only then does he confess about how bad he feels. You try to convince him to call a maester, but needless to say that doesn't work.

You arent too surprised with that refusal, considering how reserved he is and how much he hates seeming weak in front of others. You're just glad he's come to you. You don't even consider calling a maester anyway. It doesn't matter how sick he is, you won't break his trust like that. He came to you for help.

You help him get undressed and then help him into a wam bath to get him feeling a little better. Only once he's in the bath do you ask if you can remove his eye patch, and part of you think he'll say no because of how clearly vulnerable he is. But he nods and asks you to do it for him. You, of course, gently taking it off him and then help him wash himself. Aemond absolutely ADORES when you wash his hair, so when you make the offer to do that he agrees immediately.

Once he's nice and clean, you help him onto the bed. The moment he's changed into more comfortable clothes he's pulling you into bed with him and turning into your arms. You let him rest against your chest and run your hands through his hair, untangling it with your fingers.

He just lays there for a while, eventually he starts shivering and you pull away to ask what's wrong. That's when you feel his forehead and realise he has a fever. Again you suggest calling a maester and again he refuses, choosing instead to dive back into your chest and cling to you as he shivers.

You wait a little while longer and ask again when you realise he's not getting any better. You then offer to call the maesters but ensure they don't touch him. That's an option he considers, and eventually he agrees. `

You go to fetch the maester on duty, and you give them a very stern talking to because allowing them into the bedroom, making them promise they won't touch Aemond.

Aemond is sitting in the bed when you return, and he immediately holds his hand out to you. You come and sit on the side of bed, taking his hand and then telling the Maester what's going on. The maester tries to say he needs to feel Aemond's forehead, but you stop him mid sentence. Aemond doesn't even need to tell the maester no, you've already stopped him. You can feel how aemond's grip on your hand relaxes when you prevent the maester from touching him.

The maester prescribes some medication and to keep a cool towel on his forehead. You administer his medication and put a damp towel over his forehead as instructed. Aemond doesn't even bother listening to what the Maester said because he knows you would have listened closely and would ensure he follows all instructions.

When aemond is sick is the only time he will actually be openly needy with you. When you try to leave the room he actually whines and begs you to come back. And he's so hostile to anyone else who tries to enter the room, because he mostly just feels so vulnerable and he can't stand the thought of others seeing him that way. You basically have to guard his door for him to be able to relax enough to actually sleep.

Oh and if he made you sick as a result, he'll look after you and lord help anyone who tries to get him to move away from your bedside.

[surielstea]

Sunshine in the Shade

Based on this request

Pairing: Azriel x DayCourt! Reader

Summary: Reader can't stay in the night court for long when she's bound to day. Azriel and her have to share a goodbye.

Warnings: minimal angst but mostly fluff

A/N: sorry this took me so long to get out, I was struggling figuring out the concept of the original req, I'm still not very happy with it but I hope you guys enjoy nonetheless :) p.s I had to repost cuz my tags weren’t working, sorry if you were notified twice lol.

2.9k words

"That's a lie!" I throw a piece of popcorn at a giggling Morrigan. "Nuh-uh," She shakes her head with a big grin. "I'm The Morrigan I only speak the truth," She shrugs and I roll my eyes, clutching my bowl of popcorn to my chest as she claims 'I'm the prettiest girl she's ever seen'.

"Shut up," I scoff as she wraps her arms around my shoulders and hugs me close. "I mean it," She croons. "Azriel's a lucky male, don't you think Fey?" Her arms slip from around me as she turns to look at the High Lady. "She gets it from her Father," Feyre intoned with a mouthful of chocolate cake and I rolled my eyes at the mention of the High Lord of the Day Court.

It was late in the afternoon, so late that it'd be night soon. I shake my head, trying not to think about when the moon meets the stars. I stifle a sigh and lean on the railing of the roof atop one of Rhysand's many estates, staring out at the three males who were flying around each other like boys again.

When I was seven, my father was an apprentice for spell cleaving. He had been practicing warding spells when I had come into the room with a bright grin on my face excited to show him my new drawing. In a moment of distraction, his spell had shot straight into my heart, the effects irreversible. We hadn't found out the full extent of the spell until we had been traveling to different courts for meetings and as soon as the sun slipped from the sky and night began to rule, my heart stopped beating and I was hospitalized for weeks.

So I was only allowed to leave during the day, as long as I came back right before sunrise. A rule that made it impossibly challenging to see my mate, who happened to be darkness incarnate.

I take a sip of my wine as I watch Azriel soar with his brothers, a rare smile on his face that makes adoration bloom in my chest. "That boy loves you," Amren hums from beside me and I roll my eyes, tearing them away from my mate to look over at her. "No shit," I scoff and a snarky smile curves her lips. "No, he loves you," She murmurs, eyes on the three boys as they laugh amongst each other. "I've never seen him so happy in all the years I've been around him, don't ruin that," She looks at me and it's as if she can see straight through me to my bare soul, past the flesh and bone and to my inner core that held the truest version of me. "What do you—" I begin but I'm cut off by a gust of wind as a figure lands on the railing that I leaned on. "Fly with me," A familiar voice says as Azriel bends down and cups my face in his hands, forcing me to look up at him. "You won't pretend to drop me like last time?" I narrow my eyes on him, forgetting about Amrens words now that he was here, cradling my face. "Nope," He bites at his bottom lip like he always does when he lies to me. "I know you're lying," I sing and he grumbles a curse, leaning in and pressing a kiss to my lips. "Ok, promise I won't." He smushes my cheeks together. I can't help but put every ounce of my trust in him and believe what he says. I nod and he doesn't need any further consent than that.

He swoops me up into his arms and with a few beats of his wings, we were soaring up into the blue sky. I tighten my hold around him with a small squeal. I had a horrible fear of heights, it was foolish to be terrified of a few hundred feet in the air when literal monsters were walking amongst Prythian but it's something that's always affected me. With Azriel, though it was different, he loved flying so much, and that smile on his face beat any fear I had.

"I won't drop you," He promised. "I know, but," I look down, dread filling my stomach at the long drop. We were higher than mountain peaks. He pulls me closer to him. "Hey, look at me," He said and I obeyed, eyes pinned to his. "Don't look down, keep your eyes on me," He hummed and I nodded. "Feels nice, doesn't it?" He tilts his head I swallow thickly, still thinking about the ground that was so very far away.

"Hey, look at me," He repeats with more stress on his words and so I do, I look into his eyes, at the smile on his lips, the dimples on his cheeks. I feel the summer breeze on my skin and hear the laughter of my friends still on the rooftop. "I love you," I confess, hands loosening around his neck and running them through his hair. He smiled, beaming at the words. "I love you more," He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to my cheek. I grin, then giggle as he dips down onto my neck, his nose tickling it. Cassian soars by with a large smile on his face. "No kissing and flying!" The Illyrian shouted over his wingbeats and Azriel's lips halted on my neck while I threw my head back in laughter, remembering the last time Azriel got too lost in kissing me and stopped flying momentarily, putting all of his attention to my lips instead. We dove for only a second before he regained consciousness. But ever since then, Azriel wasn't allowed to put his lips anywhere near mine while flying.

My head lifted back up and I looked at him with a loving smile, fingers coiled in his hair as he stared at me like I hung every star in the sky.

My breath hitched as the sun began to melt into the horizon. My smile faltered and morphed into a frown. "You've gotta go?" He asks and I nod with a pout, looking at him with saddened eyes. "The daughter of the sun can't stay in the night court for long," He murmurs, pressing a kiss to my temple as he navigates us back to the rooftop, leaving Rhys and Cass.

"I'm sorry Az, I want to stay," I say. "I know, it's okay my love," He places my feet down onto solid land and even if I am afraid of heights, I'd much rather be up in the air instead of down here, signaling my exit.

"It's only for the night," He shrugs, settling down onto the railing of the rooftop though despite his reassuring words, something in his gaze told me he wouldn't be sleeping until he saw me again. "Oh, Az," I crash into him with enough force to knock us both over the railing but he doesn't falter, only embraces me back as I hug him tightly. "Why don't you come with me?" I ask and he tilts his head down at me with a frown. "You know your father will kill me," He shakes his head. "I don't care, I'm nearly four hundred years old, I can do what I want," I say. "And I want you," I cup his cheeks, analyzing his features as if I'll forget them. "Except you can't," He murmurs with a sad smile on his face, his thumb pulling slightly at my lower lip.

My shoulders slump and I wrap my arms around him yet again, nuzzling my nose into his shoulder. "Fly me back?" I asked softly into his neck. My fear of flying was outmatched by another moment with him.

"I was planning on it," He pressed kisses atop the crown of my head but neither of us backed up, just staying in that warm, comforting position until the sun got too low in the sky and I knew it was time to go.

"Bye, guys! See you in a month!" I wave to the others with a fake grin across my features. They all bid their farewells with pitying smiles on their faces. "I'll miss you," Mor tangles her arms around me, tearing me from a disgruntled Azriel. "Not as much as I'll miss you," I sing, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "Well now I’m sun-kissed," She holds a hand to where my lips were and I giggle, pulling away and going back into Azriel's arms who was grumbling something about the joke being dumb, but I knew he was just jealous.

"Alright, alright, let's go," Azriel swoops me off my feet and carried me bridal style before Mor could get another word in— then took off to the skies, the cool wind nipping at my cheeks as we rose above the mountain peeks and begin navigating south, in the direction my mate's flown me countless times. "Bye Rhys!" I wave to the High Lord as we pass him. "Awe is it that time already!" Cassian whined, soaring to his brother's side with an apparent frown on his face. "I'll be back don't worry," I grin over at him. "I have no doubt you will," He sighs then turns back without another word and joins a waving Rhys.

About twenty minutes of flying later I knew the sun was too low in the sky to be excusable any longer.

"Az I gotta winnow," I say tiredly, hand cradling the side of his neck. "You have to be tired, plus you still have to fly back," I explain and he shakes his head. "I could fly you around for days." He reassured and I frowned up at him. "You know I have to leave," I huff. "I know," He nods. I lean upward and press a gentle, yearning kiss to his lips.

"No kissing and flying, remember?" He mumbles onto my lips. I smile at the recollection, pressing my mouth harder to his. "I'll see you soon, okay?" I whisper and he nods with creased brows and an aching heart.

His scarred fingers dig into my thigh, searing his touch into me in case I ever forgot it. "Don't miss me too much, yeah?" I ask and he smiles weakly before uttering, "I'll try."

"I'll see you tomorrow," I sigh. "I'll be there to pick you up," He reassured and my grin faltered, then as a silent goodbye, I pressed my lips to his, holding his face with enough delicacy you'd think he was made of glass. His lips press harder onto mine. It wasn't lustful or hungry, but it was passionate and full of pining. "Love you, Az," I whisper into his mouth, and before he can reply I winnow away, leaving his arms empty with only the weight of my absence, the bond between us wearing thin as I return back to my native court, a place that no longer felt like home when every element I had of a real home was in Night.

I had winnowed right into the dining room of the Day Palace, my plate already on my spot at the table. "You're late," My father grumbled, I tossed him a glance. He sat at the head of the table, a girl half-dressed in his lap. "Gods, seriously Dad?" I shield my eyes as I grab my plate, deciding not to eat in front of something that would easily make me lose my appetite. "In my defense, I didn't think you were coming home," He shrugs sassily and I roll my eyes at his behavior. "Yeah whatever, goodnight," I mutter, getting to the large doors leading to the hall. "Will I see you tomorrow?" He asks before I can slip out. "Probably not, Az is coming to get me in the morning," I mutter and he utters a curse. "I never see you anymore," He whines childishly, making a small smile spread across my lips. "I'm sorry but my days are promised to him," I open the door wider. "Unless you're willing to let him join us for dinner sometime?" I offer and he scoffs. "I'm not feeding someone who stole my baby girl," He grumbled. "That's what I thought," I nod. "Night, Dad!" I call before slipping out the door, closing it behind me with a soft click.

I travel down the halls of the palace made of sunstone and opalescent glass, taking bites of my food occasionally but I wasn't all that hungry since I ate with Rhysand's inner circle less than an hour ago. I breathe a deep sigh as I finally arrive at my room, entering then kicking the door shut as I make my way over to my desk, setting my plate and fork down before going over to my armoire and pulling myself out of the lightweight dress I wore, slipping into a nightgown instead as I prepared myself for bed, light still in the sky.

My sleep schedule had been all sorts of messed up, I had the sleeping habits of a five-year-old. Waking up at dawn and going to bed at dusk. It was unfair of me to have Azriel spend every waking hour with me during the day but it was the only time I got to see him, I couldn't spend nights with him, and couldn't sleep in the same bed.

I huff as I slide onto my mattress, pulling the covers up to my chin as my black-out curtains do the best they can to block out any remaining sunlight.

I rubbed my eyes tiredly and attempted sleep for at least an hour before I was finally able to drift off into a light slumber, knowing the sooner I fell asleep, the sooner I'd see my mate again.

——

I wake up to a light sound of thudding outside my window, then a drumming on the glass like someone was tapping against it. But I was on the highest point in the palace, the most protected and secured part of the entire court.

I sit up slightly panicked, but the tapping stops and I suppose it's my imagination, running my hands through my hair and blaming it on being overtired. But as soon as my head hits my pillow once more the sound returns. I spring up and crawl over to my bedside window, pulling up the blackout curtains with a confused expression.

My brows shoot to my hairline as I spot a familiar winged figure on the other side of the glass. I immediately open the window, pushing it to its highest point. "What are you doing here?" I question. "I missed you," Azriel shrugs and I facepalm. "Now scoot over, my wings won't fit with you right there," He gestures to me towards the end of the bed. "Are you insane? You're not coming in," I whisper shout and he frowns. "Why not?" He murmurs sadly. "My dad will kill you if he sees you," I grit out and he shrugs. Gods, I felt like a teenager sneaking my boyfriend in.

"C'mon sunshine," He sighs, his wings slowly flapping as to keep quiet. "We'll be gone by dawn," He reasons and I stifle a curse before moving out of the way and allowing room for him to enter. Shadows protect his wings as he pushes himself through the large window that he made look small.

As soon as he through I tackle him into a hug, pressing kisses along the side of his face. He chuckles, hand coming to the back of my neck. "Thought you didn't want me in here?" He taunts and I move away, looking down at him with a wide grin. "That was before," I shake my head, leaning down and wrapping my arms around his neck, lying atop him as if I couldn't get close enough to him. "Before what?" He scoffs. "Before you were in my bed," I reason. "But now you are and I don't ever want you leaving," I say into his shoulder and he grins brightly. "Have you slept?" I ask, twining my fingers into his hair. I feel him shake his head no and I internally sigh at his insomniac habits. "Alright, c'mon," I pull him up by the collar of his shirt, towards the pillows of my bed. He follows with a content smile, flopping down onto my mattress as I slip in beside him, pulling the blankets over us as I cuddle into his side, head on his chest, arm slung over his torso while he tucks me in close between him and his wing.

"How'd you get past the guards?" I perk up, looking at him puzzled. "I'm the spymaster, aren't I?" He smiles tiredly and I return it. "Not even the pegasuses noticed?" I say with a frown. "How are you so awake?" He asks, his hand coming to my cheek and I shrug. "I'm happy you're here," I explain and his grin widens, his scarred thumb pulling at my lower lip. "Go to sleep, I'll still be here in the morning," He reassured and I believed him.

I hadn't realized just how much I wanted this until I had it. His arms around me, shadows settling over us. We've cuddled before, on couches or daybeds, but nothing like this, not with the intention of sleeping. There was something so intimate about it, how he trusted me enough to fully fall out of consciousness with his arms wrapped around me.

I smile, a warm fuzzy feeling blooming in my chest. I lean up and peck beneath his jaw. "Goodnight, Az," I murmur. "Night sunshine," He softly replies and that was all I needed to hear before I faded into that familiar embrace of sleep.

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[sealinredshoes]

let's talk about names in The Folk of The Air

I realised today that I physically CAN'T shut up about how great of an author Holly Black is when it came to reference to folklore. I mean she basically build her carrier over her fairies knowledge. So anyway, here's some info about her character names because names are so important in the Fae world.

Let's start with Jude. The lies queen, the oath traitor, the one who

gets to turn a geis at her advantage, the mind trickster, the betrayer. According to multiple etymology work, "Jude" is a alterative form for Judah and therefore Judas, the bretrayer of Jesus. In old hebrew, Jude also mean " to praise". I mean, we are all accusating Cardan of being a simp, but maybe this little fairy-boy was just doing what the name was saying.

Speaking of our silly fae king, Cardan name was formed around the word "cairn", in old english. What is a cairn ? Nothing less that some rock pile that, in some stories, where supposed to gard the sleep of old fae king that where once trapped underground because they were too dangerous (or, dare I say, wicked ?). But it doesn't stop here, since "cardan" manage to became a surname for a stubborn person, and guess where the name "Cardan" first appeared ? Cheshire (wanna guess who he relate the most to when he read Alice in Wonderland ?)

Nicasia turn. One of the oldest and most powerful ocean spirit in the celtic folklore is called Old Nick, and I think there is some reference here made by Holly Black.

Taryn. Oh dear, do I have a lot to say about Taryn name. On the matter, she is probably the most gifted. Taryn name came from a variant of Thualta, the name of the godlike people that once rulled of Ireland before leaving to the undying island. Taryn represent the embodiment of the travel from mortal land to Elfame itself. But she also wear the same name as Tara, an old Irish fairy queen, wich name blend the meaning of "hills" and "star", showing the great extent of her power. Taryn is also a name given to the river that tend to overflow often. So, just like for her name, there is much more in Taryn that what we see at first.

Vivi complete name is Vivian and I think it speak for itself. Vivian is one of the many names of the Lady of the Lake, gardian of Excalibur. Her name in particular make me feel a little bittersweat. It bear the love of her step-dad for weapon, but also, it's maybe the first name her parent assimilated to fairies, and they may have chosen it quickly since they were still recovering with all the fae-related trauma. On the other hand, Vivian is also know to have managed to trap Merlin into a rock, so they were maybe wishing for her to be capable of overpowering any fae that could have wanted bother her.

Oak means oak (breathtaking I know), and oak trees are often associated with royalty in Celtic traditions. In France, it's said the king saint Louis was use to take court under a oak trees, and oak seed are often use to keep Fae treasures safe in fairytales

Hazel share some trees linked symbolism. It's known to be a symbols of righteousness and loyalty ( quite fitting for a knight if you want my opinion)

Jack sometimes means " to take the place", and, I mean, he is a changeling after all, but jack is also a name often give' to scarecrow, a parody of human beings

Benjamin's name means "second born" . Wtf, are you thinking if you have read the Darkest Part of the Forest. Isn't Benjamin the oldest sibling? Well yes, but he is the one the fairies like the most. The one who get the gift, the one who gets the story, the one deserving of a fairytale. And in all fairytales, it's the youngest son who is the hero, and who live the story. It's the benjamin brother who gets the magical gifts from the fairy lover who's head over heels for him. Ben might be the first born but by fairytale's logic, he is a Benjamin.

I haven't read the Oak saga yet so you'll have to tell me if it fits, but Suren's seem to means "the heroic one, the strong one"in Armenian, while her second name Wren, is the one of a small bird symbolising determination, enthusiasm and happiness

Some bonus for the Spiderwick Chronicles saga, because YES, I still believe they are part of this universe even if I know they legally can't.

Mallory etymology is from the french "malheureuse", wich means "unhappy", "unlucky", but something about the name of the others characters make me think it was choosen as a reference to Thomas Mallory, academically known as the first person to mention king Arthur in a written document (actually is more complicated but the meaning is still here)

Helen can be a reference as Helen of Troy, a female character who is often perceived as irritating and uninteresting until you start to rethink the story from her point of you, just like Jared have to learn that his mom is not trying to work against him, she is just a single mom trying her best.

I believe there must be some cultural references with Simon names, but I did not find it. All I've got is that his name means"to hear and to listen" such is kinda fitting,not gonna lie, my boy is trying to hold this family together by will alone so he have to play mediator all the time. (And of course It was saint Peter first name, like @amr102 say, everybody in this family is a reference)

I think Arthur Spiderwick name is a obvious reference to king Arthur since they bear (ehee, bear,king Arthur, you have it ?) the same narrative purpose of being the focus point of action without doing anything. (Update, @amr102 also reminded me that Tony Diterlizzi, the other author of the chronicles was massively influenced by Arthur Rackam style for his illustration, so, yeah, there is a reference for both of the authors)

For Lucinda, her name etymology come from lux, the light. But in a lot of gaelic tales, such as Cuchlein and Olwein, characters associated with light tends to turn crazy and / or see what the rest of the world cannot

And finally, Jared, my favourite one yet since the theory that he was named after Jareth the Goblin King from Labyrinth 1986 will never leave my brain.

[mazzystar24]

Being a psychology nerd and engaging in fandom actually makes my eye twitch sometimes because terms are constantly being used wrong to diss people or characters and also people will act like they know every experience a mentally ill person can have just based off a small sample of what they’ve seen and they’ll use that to disregard storylines or people’s opinions or spec

So some things guys that may be an unintentional call out or reassurance for your spec:

Hallucinations CAN be auditory and visual simultaneously (multi modal it can even be tactile, somatic olfactory or gustatory) and there is actually a very high prevalence of this in a lot of disorders and are actually thought to occur more frequently than unimodal hallucinations, and yes it can be in the form of full blown conversations with people that aren’t there and they can be extremely elaborate and complex especially if paired with delusions- so yes the possibility that Kim is a hallucination and we are just seeing it from Eddie’s pov is valid spec so stop being dismissive to people

Also for my brain tumour truthers- a brain tumour is a little complicated when it comes to hallucinations cos it really depends where the tumour is and what regions are effected because for example an occipital lobe tumour is more likely to just cause visual hallucinations- but multimodal hallucinations due to a brain tumour is also possible, a brain tumour also comes with other symptoms too but a lot can be consistent with the spec like for example impulsivity or disinhibition, delusions, aggression (if the buddie divorce is true that works), anxiety, depression, etc.

Trauma bonding is something that occurs in ABUSIVE situations where you start to feel sympathy and love for your abuser it’s not when people bond over trauma - so no what buck and Eddie or buck and Chris have is very much not a trauma bond

Gaslighting isn’t just lying to someone it’s intentionally manipulating them to the extent that they doubt their own sanity (the term coming from a play turned movie where a husband drives his wife crazy by like screwing with the gas lights in their house when she’s alone to make her doubt her memory and her perception of reality) - so no Eddie is not GASLIGHTING buck when he lies to him 😭😭

Codependency is also just not what Eddie and buck have, they don’t base their entire lives on each other and they don’t like have an unhealthy dynamic or have an imbalanced relationship, now yes they both had times when they needed the other to be there for them or help them through stuff or aid their self worth but overall they more so just want to be around each other not that they NEED to and they work on themselves separately like going to therapy by themselves while also supporting eachother by helping out while they do that

[evil-mop-eating-sponge]

So.... I've been thinking and this might not make any sense and is not a solid theory by any means. I'm just having thoughts and sharing them.

There's quite a few scenes in Gravity Falls that hint at Ford before he's revealed. It literally starts in Headhunters, right at the start of the show when Stan gets jumpscared by the wax figure of him and to me at least, the entire episode felt a lot like Stan was projecting the wax figure as a version of Ford who didn't hate him or argue with him. Maybe he was practising for what he hoped life would be like when he got his brother back.

It's pretty obvious that Stan cares about Ford, hence trying to call him once, hanging up though becuase he's too afraid to talk to him, but he still wanted to know how his twin was doing. I think its likely that he wasn't calling to ask for help, but more wanted to know if his brother was okay despite the mistake he'd caused which "ruined" Ford's future and career, as far as Stan knew. Stan also went to find Ford without hesitation when he got the postcard, probably because as much as it kind of seemed like Stan just thought Ford wanted to see him, he probably knew his twin needed his help. Stan is obnoxious in his own way but not thick enough, expecially with all his self-hate, to think that Ford just wanted to see him for old times sake.

Once Ford is back and upset with Stan, I kind of felt like Stan was sort of resigning himself to the fact that Ford didn't and wouldn't thank him or valued the 30 years he'd sacrificed in any way. As tough as Stan acts, considering how the show ended, and how he's just as, if not more, self-sacrificing than Ford, it's a pretty safe bet, that if Summer had ended as normal and Ford has told him to leave, he would have done so in the night, not saying goodbye except maybe leaving Soos a postcard with a phone number or something, a hint of how to contact him because even if not said in the show, Stan probably knows about Soos' dad, considering that Soos had worked at the shack for 10 years. Even if he planned to dissapear, I think Stan would still try to be better than that guy.

So yeah, Stan cared about Ford even when he wasn't around, projecting his feelings and probably worrying himself to death about how to act once he got him back.

But then there's Ford.

In the show, Ford doesn't act caring of Stanley until the very end, when Stan sacrifices himself and Ford realizes, literally too late, that Stan is more than a selfish conman who only lies and cheats.

In Journal 3 he mentions many times what a liar and a cheat Stan is and how he hasn't changed at all. He also continues to refer to him as Family though even after Stan calls Mabel and Dipper "The only Family I haveleft". Despite this, Ford still doesn't express care for Stan really until he's trying to help get all his childhood memories back.

The thing for me with Ford is that in the same way Stan projected onto the wax figure, Ford probably had similar coping habits.

From my experiance, when you have siblings, there's a natural love you hold for them. When you fight, as angry as you are, eventually you feel sick because this is your sibling and you love them and you really do not want to fight. And it can be really hard expecially if you feel the other is in the wrong but there's this weight on your chest crushing you the longer you don't make up. And if you're both stubborn then naturally neither of you wants to give in first.

And I think this is what happened with Stan and Ford. While with Stan the guilt is visible, stemming from breaking (accidentally) Ford's project, it's near impossible that Ford didn't feel this way to some extent. Ford may be a scientist who works with logic and not emotions but he is not, as proven in the show and adjourning bookd, exempt from them.

Part of Ford's obsession with his research and his work could be that it was his coping mechanism with missing Stan, the doubt that maybe he did the wrong thing in turning his back as his twin asked for his help. In a way, when Stan tried to destroy the first journal and Ford jumped him, he was trying to prevent Stan from erasing the justifications of his actions. Without that journal, the work, he'd have to confront being grateful that Stan still came even after how things were last between them. He'd have to accept that he missed his twin. Without the imminent threat of Bill because the journal would be destroyed, Ford would have to actually talk to his brother, hear him out and that probably scared him.

In all his research, Ford let himself become close with one person. Fiddleford McGucket. Unpopular opinion ahead and not offense to any Fiddauthor shippers, but I think it's possible that Fiddleford was to Ford the same projection Stan had for the wax figure. A "better" brother. One who didn't argue with him, understood him, was still there. I think a lot of the care that Ford showed Fiddelford was him partially trying to release some of that pent-up love he still had for Stan. He had all those feelings but didn't want to make up with the one they were for and tried to channel them into someone else. Maybe Ford even thought they were or romantic origin to deny they really came from.

If this were the case, then Fiddleford leaving, abadoning him, not helping with the portal anymore probably reminded Ford too much of when his project suddenly didn't work, he discovered it was Stan's fault and then promptly lost his twin, his only friend, the one who was always there. Fiddleford had been the only person since Stan so I imagine the effect would have been very similar to then which probably didn't help the already muddled emotions Ford had when he did finally see Stan again.

Ford and Stan had different yet similar coping mechanisms to being apart and in a fight. It also makes sense to me then why they were able to fix their bond so quickly after wierdmaggedon. In a friendship it would take a lot of time to heal around 40 years or hurt (pre-portal was at least 10 years if not more) but since they are brothers, twins at that, there was just this understanding that while there's still a lot to talk about, they've done the hardest past. Admitting they still care.

If anyone read all this T-T Thank you :) these are just random thoughts of mine :P

[celticcrossanon]

BRF Reading - 11th of May, 2024

This is speculation only

Cards drawn on the 11th of May, 2024

Question: How is King Charles going to respond to this Nigerian visit by Harry and Meghan?

Interpretation: He is going to let some secrets come to light.

Card One: The Two of Pentacles, in reverse

The Two of Pentacles is a card about balance, deciding where to put your energy, what areas will be profitable and what will not. In the reverse, it says that things are unbalanced, too much energy is going to the wrong areas, things are messy and disorganised, resources are overextended.

As an answer to my question, this tells me that King Charles is tired of having to spend his energy on the Harkles, he is tired of not seeing any return on his investment in his son (i.e. a change of behaviour),. He knows that things are out of balance. He knows that the Harkles are draining his time and energy. The energy is of someone who wants to right the balance, to rid himself of this drain on his energy. He is over dealing with his youngest son and he wants the balance to tip in his favour once and for all.

There is a very strong energy of "I am over this - I do not have the time, energy or patience to deal with this anymore" around this card. It feels like The King might come down heavily on the other side of the scale to restore the balance and tip it in his favour.

Card Two: The Four of Swords.

The Four of Swords is a card of retreat and rest, which is what the King has been doing with his cancer treatment and what he is still doing to some extent now, as he is not back to a full program of work yet AFAIK. It is also about resting and restoring your reputation after a defeat. I don't think the BRF have been defeated, but the energy of restoring your reputation is strong in this card. I think that King Charles wants to restore the battered reputation of the BRF and he is using his time of retreat to plan how to do that (along with everything else that he wants done, of course - this is not his only concern, just the one I am focusing on today).

In the picture on the card, the four swords make an eight spoked wheel, like a wheel of fortune. The King is ready to spin that wheel and turn it against the Harkles, to damage their reputation in the eyes of the world. There is a sense of peace around the card about having finally made this decision as well.

Card Three: The Ten of Pentacles

This is a card of legacy, heritage, tradition, family, roots, etc. I think that King Charles is going to fall back strongly on the tradition of the BRF and on the family. He is going to close the ranks even more and not leave any hole for Harry or leave things undone in the hope that Harry will come back and take them up.

We can see this in the recent public passing on of a military position from The King to Prince William - the role of Colonel-In-Chief of the Army Air Corps. We know this hurt Harry because of the PR he put out after the announcement. I think we will see more of this in the future - positions that have been left 'on hold' in case Harry comes back being given to other family members, showing that there is no place for Harry in the BRF and that he is not a member of 'The Firm".

Underlying Energy: The Moon in reverse

This is one of two main energies of this reading, and of the two, it is the dominant energy. The Moon is the card of lies, secrets, deceptions, things not being as they seem. In the reverse, those secrets are revealed. Light is shed on what is hidden or obscured, and things appear as they are in the sunlight and not distorted by the shadows of the moonlight. The King is going to give the go ahead or has given the go ahead for secrets about Harry and Meghan to be revealed (provided nothing happens to disrupt this energy). This is to restore the balance between the Harkles and the BRF, restore the reputation of the BRF, and to help secure their legacy and traditions, as per the cards above.

Underlying Energy 2: The Emperor

This is the second main energy of this reading. The Emperor is a card of authority, control, stability, structure and protection. It is the leader who protects his people, the father who takes care of all his family (and who does not sacrifice them for the sake of one son).

This is King Charles in his role as King, the leader, the defender of his people and his country. This is the person in authority who has a plan and who is going to carry it out, to restore stability to his throne. The King is going to act as the firm father who disciplines his wayward offspring instead of coddling them.

Whatever secrets are revealed as per The Moon in reverse card, they will be revealed with the consent of The King.

Conclusion:

Finally, the worm has turned. The King has had a gutful of his second son. He is over waiting for his second son to see sense and come home. Instead, he is going to take action to right the balance between them in his favour. He wants to restore the reputation of the BRF, reduce the reputation of the Harkles, and reaffirm the values of tradition, family, propriety etc that were associated with the BRF under the late Queen. To do all this he is going to release some secrets about the Harkles and let the truth behind their actions, which has been hidden until now, out into the light of day. Harry has not heeded the warnings from his father so Harry is about to get a dose of tough love from The King.

The overall energy of this reading is of someone (The King) who is completely fed up with the Harkles. He has run out of patience with them and he is finally going to take steps to repair and stop/limit the damage they have done to the BRF by releasing secrets about them.

Note: The next underlying energy after The Emperor was the Ace of Cups, which is a card of pregnancy. I'm trying very hard not to get my hopes up but I can't help hoping that the truth about Meghan's pregnancies is finally going to come out.

All we can do is wait and see what happens. The King could change his mind, and then the secrets will not be released, but I really hope he doesn't. This is the release of an energy against the Harkles that is long overdue.